True to Yourself
by Queen of the Sugarplum Fairies
Summary: Mimi has just broken up with her boyfriend. Matt is under pressure from his band. Can their troubles unite them? Can they find what they have been missing?
1. Heartbreak

_Okay. I know I should be updating one of my chaptered fics. But… this idea just sort of struck me down one day and I figured I just HAD to write it. It's not exactly a chaptered fic, but it's not exactly a one-shot either. And it's just easier to use chapters instead of having to clarify points of view every five seconds._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue. We clear? _

**True to Yourself**

* * *

"_We're over? What do you mean we're over? Nobody breaks up with me! You can't do this!"_

"_Seems like I just did, Meems."_

"_You think you can trade up? Nobody else will have you! You'll come crawling back!"_

"_I very much doubt that."_

"_You will come crawling back! And I won't have you! You'll want me - need me - beg for me - but I won't care! I'll have found someone else and you'll have no chance!"_

"_Later, Meems."_

"_This isn't over, Michael! It's not over 'til I say it's over!"_

-x-x-

Mimi was sitting next to a deep pond, throwing stones into the sparking water. Each one sent concentric ripples radiating outwards. It was wonderfully calming.

Her relationship with Michael was over. They'd been dating for almost a year and now it was over as if it had never been.

She was upset, naturally. But, oddly, more angry than sad. She felt like a rug had been pulled from beneath her, or that she'd missed a step walking downstairs. Like all her power had been stripped from her. Like all the tables had been turned and now she was just freefalling. It was most unsettling. She was at a loss for what to do. She'd always prided herself on being in control. Being in charge and having everybody else obey her orders. And now that was gone, and she'd never been less sure of herself.

She dangled bare feet into the water and wriggled her toes pensively. It wasn't that Michael was really such a great boyfriend. He wasn't. Mimi craved passion and fire in a relationship. She wanted someone who would challenge and excite her. Someone she could argue with; who wasn't afraid to stand up for himself. She wanted an equal and as yet she'd been unable to find him. Michael was distant, even cold, and about as good to talk to as a pet rock. Nobody was quite as interested in Michael as Michael, so his conversation skills were limited.

But he was a football star. And good-looking. And he could charm even the bitterest old teachers into giving him good grades. He was the sort of boy she was expected to date. The ideal king for the Queen Bee.

She glanced down at her reflection. She supposed she understood why she'd been crowned Queen in the first place. She was pretty, in a stereotypical sort of way. Her long honey blonde hair and wide, dark-lashed caramel eyes were the envy of many a woman. Her delicate features and naturally lithe figure drew admiring glances from men of all ages. This was something she knew and accepted without conceit. After all, to be conceited you had to consider that aspect of yourself to be important.

When she was in school and with her friends, she played her Queen Bee role to perfection. She knew they expected it of her. But when she was on her own, she couldn't help but question it. How many people actually liked her? How many were only pretending? How many talked about her behind her back? How many would care if something awful happened to her? How many were only with her because of the role she played? But most of all, was she really that person?

Because, when she looked at it objectively, that person was not somebody she liked at all.

She shut her eyes and tried to stop such thoughts. She was sitting on a rock plateau, the edge of which hung over the deepest part of the pool. Inching forward, the water slowly swallowed her legs to the shin. It enticed her. She would love to go for a swim. Lie there, oddly weightless and embraced by nature, and let her uncertainties float away. Let the water drain her.

But, of course, she hadn't brought swimmers. The decision to come here had been an impromptu one, and she was regretting not thinking it over more. She cast a glance around. The water was _very_ tempting. And nobody was likely to come by.

Unzipping her skirt, she left all her clothes in a neat pile by the side of the pond and dove in.

* * *

_  
Emma's useless facts about nothing in particular_

The first passengers in a hot air balloon were a sheep, a duck, and a rooster.


	2. Artistic Differences

"_Okay. You haven't completed the song. How much have you done?"_

"… _None."_

"_NONE? I thought you were the creative genius!"_

"_Matt, the gig is two days - hear that? DAYS - from now, and we only have half a set. If we use covers! When will you be done?"_

"_Don't rush me."_

"_Hate to break it to you, Mozart, but we are in crisis mode. Either you write us this song, or we can't go on!"_

"_I'll get it done."_

"_You had better." _

-x-x-

Matt sighed. He was so doomed. The other guys in his band were going to murder him. And then resurrect him so that the audience members could have their turn. This gig was - without exaggeration - The Big One. Ready to make or break them. Up until now they'd played at school events, and at small private functions. But this time they had finally secured a professional public performance at a well-known club. A club that agents and talent scouts were rumoured to visit. It could be their ticket to the Big Time.

So everything had to be new. New songs, new sets, new routines. And because Matt was the primary songwriter, a lot of that responsibility fell squarely on his shoulders.

Normally, he wouldn't mind. Usually he thrived under pressure. He wasn't one to stress out and fall apart in hysterics. He would just sit down and get it done. Unfortunately, he didn't think that would work this time. He seemed to have completely lost his creative spark. No matter how hard he tried, new music just wouldn't come to him. His bedroom floor was littered with failed attempts, each one a shade more pitiful than the last.

And he didn't know what to do. Every avenue seemed a dead end. If they went on stage with a set of terrible new songs and covers, they would be laughed off stage. The club would never have them back and they'd never find an agent. If they went on stage with only their older, far better music, they'd be told to come back only when they had something new and different. Another opportunity lost. Another step backwards in a business in which one wrong move could ruin everything. The business of shattered hopes and broken dreams.

Matt shook his head. He didn't want his band to crash and burn the way so many others had. He knew they were good, and he knew they deserved a shot at stardom. He didn't want all their hard work to amount to nothing.

And as much as he did not want to admit it, it was beginning to look like that was the way fate was sending them. And it would be all his fault, unless he found inspiration soon. And this was why he was taking a long walk. He wasn't running away, exactly. He just had to get away from the world. He was sure that, if given peace and quiet and some beautiful scenery, he would find the song he needed.

Or at least a good place to hide when everyone wanted his head on a pike.

He was wandering down a fairly overgrown path through a nature reserve. It was a park he'd visited often as a child, but not in many years. If he was remembering correctly, he thought he was probably heading towards a secluded pond. He didn't think many people knew about it - it was rather a long way into the bush - and he was hoping that there, by the gently lapping water, he could find his peace.

As he walked, his fingers moved through various chord progressions, itching to find the right one. Snippets of music played in his mind, but somehow each one sounded totally wrong. When he was at his best, whole songs would just come rushing to him, and he would have to scramble for the nearest pen and paper in order to scrawl them down. At his worst, he was like a desert waiting for the rain.

So he was distracted as he ambled into the clearing. He wasn't paying attention to where he was. He meant no wrong, really. But once he'd stopped, and properly focussed on the view before him, he was unable to move. Unable to leave though he should have.

This was not what he'd been expecting.

* * *

_  
Emma's useless facts about nothing in particular_

The lining of a person's stomach is replaced every 36 hours.


	3. What Makes You Stay

_Disclaimer: Emma doesn't own _Highway to Hell_, either. Don't sue her, as it would make her cry._

* * *

Matt stared dumbly at the woman swimming lazily before him. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Somewhere in the fuzzy reaches of his mind, he realised he was going to be caught. But it made no difference. He was rooted to the spot.

Somersaulting in the water, Mimi finally caught sight of him. Shrieking, she clamped her arms around her nudity. The piercing noise seemed to break him from his paralysis and he quickly averted his eyes. For a long moment Mimi was so shocked, so embarrassed, that words seemed beyond her. But then that moment passed, and she was fuming.

"Why are you here?" she screeched. "Get out! This is my place!"

Matt, in contrast, was as cool and satiny smooth as the water surrounding her. "Actually, this is _my_ place, and _you_ are intruding upon it."

"I am _not_ going _anywhere_!" she screamed, her tone betraying a note of hysteria.

Matt merely smirked, passing an appraising glance over her naked body. "Fine with me." He hooked a finger through her bra strap, raising the garment into view. "Yours?"

Mimi flushed to crimson. "You… _beast_! At least turn around and let me get dressed!"

Matt inclined his head to her and spun to face the other direction. He heard the smooth sounds of her swimming to the edge, and the drippy-splashing noise of her hoisting herself out. He stood very resolutely with his back turned, but couldn't resist just one little peek.

… Damn. She had a fine body to go with that sharp tongue.

When she was fully clothed, she went back to dangling only her feet in the water. Haughtily, she ignored Matt's presence altogether. And then, for some inexplicable reason, Matt joined her. He wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to achieve. This was Mimi Tachikawa. He knew her. Snooty, demanding Princess Mimi. Sitting on her throne and ordering everyone else around as if they were her slaves.

He supposed, honestly, he felt a little sorry for her. When you are on top you have a long way to fall, and nobody you can truly trust to catch you. And then there was something else, too. When he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd seen someone completely different. Someone terribly ill-equipped for the harsh realities of royal status.

She'd been fragile, ethereal and vulnerable as she let the water slip around her. Achingly pure and untouched. She looked exposed, her true face finally caught without its mask. Before she could raise her defences and pull the old act back around her. Unprotected and utterly… naked.

And Matt couldn't deny that he was attracted to her. To whoever she was.

And so he'd kicked off his shoes and sat down next to her. She merely turned her head away, nose in the air, and refused to acknowledge him.

"You looked better without your clothes on." He said, trying for a reaction.

She coloured, turning to set a glare of pure hatred on him. "How tactless of you to remind me." She said icily.

Matt could only laugh as he changed tack. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Mimi stared at the boy next to her. She knew him. He was Matt Ishida and he attended her school. But they didn't exactly run in the same circles. He was handsome enough to fit in with Michael's gang, she supposed, with his icy blue eyes and soft blonde bunny feet hair. But he'd never seemed interested. He had his group of friends - members of his band - and he appeared content with that arrangement. It made him extremely hard to categorise. Was he below the social strata or above it? Or just beyond it? It was most perplexing.

Eventually she just looked away. Answering his question was probably harmless. "If you must know, my boyfriend broke up with me this morning. I came here to think about things. What are _you_ doing here?"

"My band has a huge gig two days from now, and I can't write any new music. This place has always inspired me in the past."

Mimi was surprised at how readily he volunteered this information. The conversation was becoming too personal, too deep. She struggled to bring it back to the level of light banter.

"Oh. Well… you could always write a song about me."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Someone already has, Mi. It's called _Highway to Hell_. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

Mimi seemed supremely unfazed by this insult. She merely replied coolly, "You know, you're not as witty as you think you are."

"And you, Princess, are not as perfect as _you_ think _you_ are."

"… I don't think I'm perfect," Mimi replied, her voice little louder than a whisper. "I never have."

Matt hadn't meant offence with his remark. Nothing serious at any rate. And yet, when he stole a sideways glance over at her, he saw that he'd really hurt her. She looked sad, defeated. As vulnerable as she'd seemed when he'd first chanced upon her. In that moment, she reminded him of the Mimi he'd known as a child, or even just a few short years ago. Someone he remembered so hazily that it might have been a dream. Someone sweet and sincere and easily wounded by the ills of the world.

"Do you hate me?" she blurted unexpectedly.

Matt wasn't sure what kind of answer you were meant to give to such a question. "… No?" he experimented.

Mimi just hung her head lower. "Of course you do. Why would you like me? Even I don't like me."

"You don't have to be the person that everyone expects you to be," said Matt, a little disconcerted by the sharp turnarounds in her personality. "Just be yourself."

Mimi could feel a stinging heat behind her eyes. She struggled to blink it away. She never cried in public, and she refused to cry now. But it was in a choked, husky voice that she answered. "I don't know how…"

Matt thought for a moment. Turning to look at her properly, he was hypnotised by the kaleidoscopic emotion in her eyes. As if in a dream, he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She let out something like a whimper as he gently grazed his fingers towards the centre of her back.

And then he pushed.

She tumbled forwards, landing in the water with a graceless splash. Emerging moments later, she was coughing up water and spluttering with rage.

"What… why… how… _MATT!"_

But Matt was standing. He dropped his jeans and shrugged off his t-shirt. Dressed in only his satin boxers, he dove into the clear cool water. He rose only inches from where Mimi was furiously treading water.

"To be yourself, you have to wash away all the façade. The make-up, the clothes… the attitude. Be true to only your deepest desires. Ignore what the fashion magazines and the television and even what your friends say you want. Listen to your feelings and let your intuition tell you what's best."

His voice was soft and low, oddly melodic, and his eyes never fell from her face. She was intoxicated by his presence.

And so for once in her life she stopped to listen to her intuition. And it was screaming at her, loud and clear. There was only one course of action, only one thing that seemed logical.

So she kissed him.

The second her lips touched his, it came to him. Like someone had opened his creative floodgates. A whole song, ready and packaged, just waiting to be scribbled out onto music sheets. There was a guitar opening - then come the drums - and the keyboard. All the music was there. Chords, riffs, they all meshed. Rhymes worked and rhythms fitted. This song would save him and his band; of that he was completely confident.

Seconds, minutes or possibly hours later they split apart, each staring at the other in shock.

* * *

Sorry. This should have gone up earlier, with the first two chapters. But I've just had minor surgery, and you know what it's like. All fun and games until the anaesthetic wears off. So yeah. Next chapter coming soon!

_Emma's facts about nothing in particular_

Ever year, Americans spend close to 25 billion dollars on beer.


	4. The Aftermath

Matt was back in the rehearsal studio with his band. He'd hastily scribbled out one copy of his new song, and had handed it to Jaz to inspect. Jaz played the drums for the Teenage Wolves, and if Matt was Captain of their pirate ship, Jaz was First Mate. Matt knew that Jaz could tell a hit from a flop, and, more importantly, would be honest to the point of brutality.

Jaz took the sheet music, rifling through the pages as he read the notes and lyrics. "_Swimming naked in the moonlight, I know it's wrong but still it seems right… she knows I'm there, she calls my name, haunted eyes will never see the same_… key change… complex guitar solo - better you than me, buddy… chorus… and a nice big finish."

He stared down at the sheets in his hands as if they were speaking back to him. Then he threw both hands up above his head, letting the pages rain down around him as he moved over to clap Matt on the back.

"This is _brilliant_, Matt! And to think, we were starting to lose faith in you! Showed us, huh? This is our ticket to stardom, Matt, _stardom_! If this isn't a number one hit, I don't know what is!" he paused in his rapture for a moment. "If you don't mind me asking, where'd you get your inspiration?"

Matt was silent for a long time. A suspiciously long time. "Just around." He replied eventually.

"It was a girl, wasn't it?" Jaz nodded sagely. "Don't let her go, Matt. She's good for you."

Matt snorted. "You're only saying that because you want more songs."

But even as Jaz raised the palms of his hands in defeat, Matt could feel his heart beating a little faster. Somewhere inside he was struck with something soft and squidgy and terrifyingly like a crush.

_Oh, Mimi…_

-x-x-

Mimi was eating lunch in a café. She was wearing pink, though the colour of the season was turquoise. For the first time in years, she was completely without makeup. It was a small step, admittedly, but even a small step was a move in the right direction. She was just raising the second half of her sandwich to her lips when she caught sight of an unruly mop of blonde curls.

Michael.

"Hey Meems! I called your 'rents and they said you might be here! I've been looking for you… I barely recognised you, actually. Have you done something different with your hair?"

Mimi just rolled her eyes. How did she date this boy for so long without going utterly mental? Then again, maybe she had been mental. Her behaviour hadn't exactly been normal. She could only make up for it now.

"What is it that you want, Michael?"

Michael seemed to take this as an invitation to sit down. Scraping the chair noisily along the floor, he slid in opposite her. He reached out for her hand, which she quickly withdrew and laid in her lap. Looking slightly discouraged, but not completely put off, he spoke.

"Meems, I've been thinking…" Mimi snorted as if to suggest that she didn't think it likely. Undeterred, he continued. "Maybe I was a little hasty. Maybe I made a… mistake. I don't know what I was thinking when… when we broke it off…"

"Oh, Michael…"

_Oh, Matt…_

* * *

It was a short chapter, I know, but I know you can all handle that. Right? Also, those lyrics were written by ME. So they are MINE, and I cannot get kicked off the site for using them!

And why Jaz, I hear you ask? Because I felt like it. Does anyone actually know what Matt's band members' names are? Not that I'd change his name - I like Jaz. But I am curious…

_Emma's useless facts about nothing in particular_

A person uses approximately fifty-seven sheets of toilet paper each day.


	5. Blend and Balance

It was the day after the show. Matt was on Cloud Nine as he strolled through the sunny nature reserve, remembering the events of the night before. Things could hardly have gone better. After forty-eight hours of intensive rehearsal, his song had been a hit. It had made the set. The audience had demanded two encores, and the club had offered them a permanent listing.

And so now there was only one thing left to do. One person left to see. And as luck would have it, by some heavenly coincidence she was wandering towards him. Neither made any move to show they'd seen the other. Just kept moving at the same relaxed pace until they were face to face, an arm's reach away. Matt had been expecting this to be awkward, given what had happened the last time they had met. But he'd been wrong. Though neither had said a single word, it was a companionable, gentle quiet that surrounded them.

Eventually it was Mimi that spoke, gazing directly into his eyes.

"I was at the club, you know. I heard your band play."

"… Oh." He had tried to think of a witty reply, but had failed miserably. He fancied that her piercing stare could read his soul. He thought he felt himself blushing. What a ridiculous notion. He never blushed.

The corners of Mimi's lips twitched. "I thought you said you weren't going to write a song about me."

He coughed sheepishly, the pinkish tinge grazing his face now extending to the tips of his ears. "I never said that. I just said someone else already had."

A pause stretched between them. Still neither had moved. Matt hadn't reached out to touch her like he wanted to. His arms were fixed at his sides. Mimi's gaze hadn't fallen from his face. She couldn't turn her head away.

"So…" he began again, feeling oddly nervous. What did that mean? He was _never_ nervous. "Did you like it?"

Mimi grinned properly, a smile that lit up her whole face. "Better than _Highway to Hell_."

And then the spell was broken. Matt pretended to start in shock. "Ye Gods! Is that the glimmer of a sense of humour?"

Mimi raised an eyebrow in mock disapproval. "Watch it, boy."

Both smiled as another silence settled. Matt gritted his teeth. This was proving much harder than he thought it would be. Worse than that, he was finding himself unable to look at her. He cast his eyes downwards as he spoke again.

"You know… Jaz - that's our drummer - said I should hang on to you…"

Mimi tried to catch his eye, but he was too quick for her. "Why?" she asked, a look of puzzlement drawing her features together.

"Because of the song. Because without you I couldn't write anything worth listening to. Because you were my inspiration…"

"Okay..." she thought that she maybe saw where this was going. "And what do you think?"

"What about your boyfriend?" Matt's voice was small, almost scared. How could this have happened? How could one girl have disarmed him so? And _this _girl, of all of them?

"Ex-boyfriend." Mimi's tone was detached, almost flippant. It seemed a tad forced, as if she was trying not to care. Trying to shield her hurt. "Emphasis on the 'ex'. He wanted me to take him back, but I wouldn't. He broke up with me so that he could hit on Sora. My _best friend_. When she wouldn't have him, he thought maybe I wasn't such a bad catch after all. I was just a trophy for him. An accessory to his ideal life. And even though he was never my Prince Charming, it still hurt. I could never date another guy like him..."

She was suddenly cut off as Matt took her face in his hands and pressed his lips down on hers. Mimi, initially too stunned to respond, took a moment to melt into the kiss. His lips were sure of what they wanted, but at the same time they were so soft; so tender. It was turning her joints to jelly. He knew exactly what he was doing. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the fact that he was a _way_ better kisser than Michael. With him, kissing had been a battle fought for dominance. This kiss was about give and take. And that was the way it should be.

It was a long moment before they each pulled back. Matt looked wide-eyed, shocked at himself for what he'd just done. What he'd just risked. Mimi looked just as she felt: jumbled, in complete disarray. As if someone had taken a baseball bat and smashed every one of her beliefs like the glass menagerie they were. She knew the ball was in her court now. It was her call to make. She twisted her hands together and tried to find the words.

"Matt… you saw me in a way that nobody has ever seen me. You found a way to strip me bare when not even I could. And I don't know what is going to happen in the future, because I'm still learning. I have to completely reform myself. But I think I'll be okay… if I can learn it with you."

Matt grinned so brightly that he seemed to sparkle. "You can learn anything with me."

And, looking her directly in the eyes, he took her by the waist and kissed her again.

* * *

FINISHED! Hurrah! This is the first chaptered fic I have actually finished in YEARS. Please to be reviewing if you liked it!

_Emma's facts about nothing in particular_

There are seven letters in the English alphabet that look the same upside down as right side up.


End file.
